


A Little Different Than Your Average Fairy Tale

by Metis_Ink



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Gift Fic, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, watch out for lynns dumb writes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metis_Ink/pseuds/Metis_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody in Barona knows King Richard is gay for the Lord of Lhant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Different Than Your Average Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [assbele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbele/gifts).



> Birthday present for assbele! Also all those times I promised to write a Richass fic and failed to until now (nods at Nienna). Now I have fulfilled my duty.

Patty is three days into her new job at the castle and she’s already in love.

After she lost her job at the Strahta hotel following their recent employee cut, President Paradine was kind enough to consolidate with the ever-popular King Richard for a new job. It just so happened that one of their older maids just caught a bad case of Black Fever and had to go into early retirement, which meant one gaping opening for her.

Before she knew it, she was packing her things and being shipped off to Windor for her new, regal job in the same estate that King Richard himself lived. Her parents cried and hugged her goodbye, and she promised her dad she would send him pictures and autographs as soon as she met him.

Which happened to be yesterday, though she didn’t get the autographs or pictures. The paintings and stories were wrong about his silky hair and dashing smile. They were wrong about his grace and contagious confidence. They were wrong about his patience and aura of overwhelming power. They were wrong because it was all so much _better_.

It’s at lunchtime when she meets him, wandering the halls with towels crowding her thin arms. As soon as he’s in her sights, she can’t move. She can’t breathe. He’s like every one of her great novel heroes in one right before her very eyes. But the killer was that he stopped. And was _looking at her_.

“Oh,” he says, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, amber eyes shining like stars. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

And he’s looking right at her. _Right at her_ , not down, not sideways, not upsidedown or rightways, _right at her_. “Uh,” Patty says.

“You must be the new maid from Strahta,” King Richard ( _King Richard!_ ) says, smiling. He straightens up and helps her a bit with the towels. “Working hard, I see. I’m Richard.”  He laughs a bit. It’s a beautiful laugh. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you yesterday, I was a little caught up with work.”

 _I know_ , she almost says. Craig from kitchen staff was very strict that nobody was to bother the king because he was  _very busy_. Of course, Patty didn’t think she would be getting to meet the king at all, but she was disappointed nonetheless.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

 _Oh my god_ , Patty thinks, and has to catch her breath and breathe for a couple moments before she squeaks out, “P-Patty.”

“It’s good you could come, Patty,” he tells her, flashing a polite smile. “I hope you enjoy working here.”

“Hngh,” Patty says, and then King Richard breezes past her, striding past her so fluidly it’s as if his feet don’t even touch the floor. Before she knows it, he’s gone, and she’s left there, clutching the towels with an embrace so tight Headmaid Jane would kill her for bringing back such a crumpled batch.

But that was yesterday, and now Patty is poking her foot into the king’s room this pleasant evening to deliver dinner. When she told fellow maid Hilda about her experience, she just nodded and said, “Yeah, you’ve caught the Richard Fever. Richarditis. The Richard Epidemic. It’s inescapable. But you’ll get over it soon enough.”

Patty doesn’t think so. Right now, she sure she’s going to lose the entire tray of food from how violently her hands are shaking. She nudges the door open a little more. Her heart is beating hard against her chest as she’s entering the king’s room ( _Holy crap!_ ).

She shakes her head and calms herself. _Go, Patty! Stop wasting time!_ She screams to herself, and then swings through the doors of his room, throwing her head back and squaring her shoulders until she’s the prime example of perfect mai—

Except he’s asleep.

Patty doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She sighs nonetheless, and shuffles forward, trying not to glance at the exhausted king resting in the bed not two feet from her. She sets the tray down next to his nightstand, just in case he wakes up later, and begins to slide back when she hears it.

“Asbel.”

Patty freezes in her tracks, where she’s shuffling backwards from the nightstand, her back to the door and her body towards the king. She fights the urge to move her head to look at him, but her mind is shooting off a million thoughts a second.

A shuffle. “God,” King Richard says, “Asbel.”

 _What_ , is Patty’s first thought. The second is, _Who’s Asbel?_

Because this isn’t just sleeptalking. This is _dream_ talking. The King of Windor is dreaming about some chick named Asbel and Patty is right next to him, listening to it.

She doesn’t even realize she’s finally turned to look down at him until she’s watching him cuddle further into the pillow he’s clutching like a lifeline. His beautiful face is pressed into the silk case, breathing lightly in his unconscious euphoria.

The king smiles and laughs in his sleep. Which Patty would have been going wild over if she didn’t know he was dreaming about some other girl, a princess, who probably has flowing hair of gold and weighs less than a dove.

Patty blinks twice before she hears the next breath out of King Richard and high-tails out of there.

 

* * *

 

The answer she gets to _Who the hell is Asbel_ is nothing she expected. For one, Asbel is not a princess with golden hair. Or dove weight. Or a _she_.

But she doesn’t get any of these answers first. When she asks Maid Hilda about it not too long afterwards, the first thing she gets is “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Patty, confused, shakes her head.

A couple of the other maids leaned in not-so-subtly after Patty asked. They’re all looking down at her with vulture’s expressions, wide eyed and unmoving. If Maid Hilda has noticed, she doesn’t seem to say anything about it. She shakes her head and tells Patty, “Asbel is the Lord of Lhant.”

The other maids nod enthusiastically behind her, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Patty is very confused.

“What?” Patty says. “ _What_?”

“It’s just funny how easy it was to tell you weren’t from around here,” Maid Hilda says stoically, but can’t hold back her smile. “You have no idea.”

Patty really doesn’t. It would be nice if she did, but nobody’s telling her anything.

“Oh, you’ll get it,” Maid Hilda assures her, losing her smirk as the maids begin to disperse once again. “It shouldn’t take that long. It’ll sink in like your morning duties.”

 _She’s wrong_ , Patty thinks. _There’s no way_.

 

* * *

 

Except it does. Two weeks later, it’s as simple as the sun rising in the east and the warmth of the Valkines cryas. Patty wants to think that it doesn’t make sense, but it does. Even Maid Hilda’s warning wasn’t necessary.

 

* * *

 

It’s no secret in Barona that the King is in love with the Lord of Lhant.

For four years, it was that way to everyone except Richard. Everyone in the castle knew about their prince’s crush on the knight in training.

It wasn’t as if he blurted “Asbel” in every other sentence, though he probably would had he less control of himself. No, Prince Richard just wasn’t very subtle about things.

He frequently spent his hours in the southmost watchtower in the castle, where the Knight Academy training grounds were fully visible. He didn’t seem to notice that everybody else noticed. His favorite excuses were the diplomatic “excellent view of the Strahtan islands,” the less subtle “calming sea breeze and view of the town,” and the classic “need for some fresh air.”

He also got peculiarly giddy whenever the topic of the knight academy came up. His head would perk up, his eyes would grow big and hopeful, and his back would straighten higher than it ever had before. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell him that they were just going to discuss potential graduates. _Everybody_ hated telling him that he couldn’t visit. Saying he would have the look of a kicked puppy would be like saying Fendel was kind of chilly.

He also never agreed to any of his father’s choices in potential marriage candidates. This was especially common as he grew older, and he got into more and more creative ways of dodging the subject.

One in particular was when he was fifteen and his father invited a princess from a northern country to visit, and he spent his entire week with her in Gralesyde. By the time he came back the princess had announced her engagement to a young duke that just so happened to be lounging at the same estate as her and was married a month later. Richard went back up to his tower not long after he returned, though they were informed that he did become very good friends with the town’s duke.

Even the king noticed. He would look down at his son with amazement every time it happened. If you needed to brighten up Prince Richard’s day, all you had to say was “Asbel,” and his eyes would glow like a sunrise. Between all of his studies, sword training, diplomatic responsibilities, music lessons, and all of his preparations to be the next king of Windor, it was always one name that could bring him out of his troubles.

When the king was sixteen, it was Instructor Victoria, of all people, who broke and asked him. She had been newly assigned to the Knight Academy and had approached the Prince while he was in the middle of going over his notes about the new President of Strahta.

She didn’t miss a beat when she stepped into his room. A couple maids were cleaning up at the time, though she didn’t seem to take this to mind. “So,” she began, “Tell me about Asbel Lhant.”

The maids packed up and bolted out in two seconds flat, leaving a shell-shocked Richard behind in their wake. This didn’t stop them from pressing their ears against the door only after sending it down the gossip line.

Victoria left as calmly as she came. Rumor has it that she noticed him staring down from the watchtower on her first day and knew immediately. Nonetheless, Prince Richard didn’t say a word for the next three days after that.

Though, he did nearly choke on his food when his father asked him if he wanted to go to that year’s Knight Academy awards ceremony, but nobody missed his frequent splitting grin and ray of sunshine he carried around with him for the days preceding the ceremony. It was if heaven had found a small place in the castle.

The Prince never actually met Asbel that day, but he did return that evening shining brighter than he ever did before. The maids giggled, the butlers smirked, and the gardeners were planting roses for days on end.

Everybody was sure he would say something after his father died three years later. But he didn’t. The only indication of this was that Richard still seemed to avoid the subject there being anything beyond friendship with Asbel when he was around him. In fact, he seemed very insistent on the idea of friendship.

He didn’t say anything throughout the entire Incident either. Nobody likes to talk about the Incident, anyway, but it was still pretty disappointing when King Richard came back still tripping over his words and acting like a middle school girl around the lord. They hated to admit it, but they were actually hoping his “other self” (which seemed a lot more honest with itself at the time) would say something.

But it didn’t. He didn’t. And the Pining of Richard Windor continued on.

It actually got even _worse_ following the Incident. Everybody knew King Richard was crushing on Asbel Lhant, but afterwards, he was truly, full-out in _love_ with him. Richard seemed to take up every dealing with Lhant as a full-out diplomatic mission, and Asbel seemed to spend half of his time around Barona, hanging out with the king or out on his knightly duties with the king. Whenever he _was_ around the castle, Richard seemed to take every not-so-subtle opportunity to touch Asbel whether it would be to grab him and drag him around the castle or just give him a friendly pat on the back. And he seemed to like holding his hand. A lot. Handshakes were all the rage in the Windor Castle.

Maid Mary-Roberts claims she heard that King Richard almost kissed Asbel when they were on their super, intergalactic space mission. “Couldn’t get past touching his face. Leaned forward and _everything_. But he couldn’t do it.”

When asked how she knew this, Maid Mary-Roberts just looked really grim and said, “I handed Lord Lhant one of the King’s bouquets before. Then I touched his hand as it’s like something just _told_ me.”

Nobody believed her, except they did, because it sounded just like their king.

All of the maids shook their heads and frowned, the young ones, the old ones, the new ones and the experienced ones. It had been a long eight years.

 

* * *

 

Three days after Maid Patty’s evening extravaganza, Maid Hilda catches King Richard in his office writing a letter. Or at least, she catches King Richard stuffing a letter into his desk while she’s delivering a package from the Duke of Gralesyde. The king slams his desk drawer shut and tries to close the bottle of ink without making a bloody mess out of everything, sitting up stiffly straight in his seat.

“Oh, Hilda,” he says as casually as possible, fumbling with the ink cap as he attempts to smile inconspicuously. She notices that the wastebasket not too far from his desk was supporting a small mountain of crumpled papers, spilling to the floor from their abundance. “What do you have there?”

“Uh…” Maid Hilda just stares, watching in wonder as her king sits flushed in his seat toying with an ink container and a weird letter. “Package from Gralesyde, Your Highness.”

“Oh, already?” King Richard laughs, tense. “I didn’t think that was coming for another couple days. You may leave it over there.” He finally caps the ink and indicates the small table near the door that supported a small vase of sopherias.

Maid Hilda obliges and slowly backs out of his office, easing the door shut. She closes it, but keeps one hand on the knob before waiting a couple seconds and inching it open again mutely.

She watches her king at his desk, pulling the letter out and reading it softly to himself. He has a set, determined expression crossed over his usually-controlled face as his eyes scroll over his handwriting.

“…wish you could… hope you’re… and if… love, Richa… _Love,_ Richard. Drat. No, can’t do that,” Richard looks up and scribbles out something on the page. “Wait, I can’t send this now.” He sighs before crumbling up the paper and tossing it to the wastebin along to join its family of failed letters. Immediately, he pulls out another parchment and begins writing. “Dearest Asbel… Wait…”

Maid Hilda slowly closes the door again.

 

* * *

 

One week after Maid Hilda’s delivery to King Richard, he’s in the general store. Mrs. Brenda, pushing 80 and hunched one foot short, can’t help but smile at the helpless king. She steps from behind the counter and hobbles over to her customer, her granddaughter, Lilia, smirking behind her.

“Thinking of someone special, dear?” she asks her king from where he is by the assorted flowers.

The king flushes a bright red and turns away to stare intensely at the carnations. “Yes,” he says before biting his tongue. “Uh, no. Yes. They’re for a friend. No. I mean, he is, but…”

“Of course, dear,” she says easily. A bit of the color returns to the king’s face, though he still can’t bring himself to look into the general store owner’s eyes.

“Um…” He bites his lip tentatively. “Would you recommend…”

“Here” she says, and picks out a bundle of various colors of camellias.  “These would be perfect.”

“Oh,” King Richard stares down at the assortment appraisingly. “Red and pink? He’s a guy.  I mean… um… yes, he’s a guy.” Richard gives Mrs. Brenda a tense smile, gripping his hands together.

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Brenda tells him.

“So, um…” The king rubs the back of his head nervously.

“Would you like me to wrap these up for you?” Mrs. Brenda asks him, grinning crookedly.

“Oh, well…” Richard presses his lips together and stares down at the flowers. His eyes grow misty and his features soften noticeably, as a small smile quirks at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, if you would so kindly.”

Mrs. Brenda grins wider and turns back to her granddaughter at the counter. She waggles her eyebrows as she gives her the flowers. Lilia takes one look at the assortment and waggles back.

 

* * *

 

Everybody knows that King Richard is gay for the Lord of Lhant. Which, apparently, includes the Lord of Lhant.

The day after that, Butler Matthias is told to arrange a vase of camellias in the guest room and immediately knows who their next guest is. The maids go wild, the knights scramble over each other to prepare, and the kitchen staff frantically gathers all of their best curry ingredients before time runs out.

They try to be as natural as possible, but that doesn’t seem to work very well since the first thing Lord Lhant asks him when he escorts Asbel to his room is, “Do you know why everyone seems to be really, really happy lately?”

He’s talking about how everybody’s been smirking a lot more lately, especially when the Lord of Lhant is in question. They’ve all noticed how tense King Richard has gotten, and the jumble of frantic nerves he’s been, not being able to settle down and constantly pacing his office behind closed doors. He’s silent at the dinner table except for when he has guests, which then he reverts back to his regal self.

But something’s going on. And whatever it is, nobody wants to ruin it. Matthias spent half an hour preparing those camellias just to make sure they were perfect.

Lord Lhant takes one look at them and goes scarlet. _Thank god_ , Butler Matthias thinks.

“Did, uh, Richard pick these out?” he asks.

“Of course,” Matthias says a little too quickly, keeping a straight face. “Went out and bought them himself. He’s very thoughtful when it comes to you.” _Too straightforward?_ he thinks. Maybe.

“Oh, uh…” The entire castle should be rejoicing that Asbel Lhant is a flower expert, whether their king picked them out intentionally or not. Either way, it's not as if the wrong idea is being sent. “I’ll thank him personally, then.”

“Oh, yes,” Matthias says quickly, again. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that a lot, Lord Lhant.”

“Hubert told me he was in love with me,” Asbel says.

“Of course.” Butler Matthias nods, and then absorbs the meaning of the lord’s words. “W-Wait, what?”

“He told me three months ago, actually.” The lord looks a little embarrassed by this, his heterochomatic eyes wandering all over the place. Matthias’s collar suddenly becomes ten sizes too tight, and he pulls at his tie to loosen it. Asbel runs a hand through his hair nervously. “He, uh, said everyone knew.”

“We do,” Matthias blurts out before he can even catch himself. _Shit_. “Uh, I mean, we might have had some ideas.”

Asbel buries his burning face into his hands regardless. The room seems to have risen twenty degrees. Matthias thinks he hears the lord mumble something that oddly sounds like “Shut up, Lambda,” but he decides to ignore it.

“Wow, okay.” The Lord of Lhant clears his throat one too many times, and his hand can’t seem to leave the back of his neck. Butler Matthias is afraid he’s going to rub it off if he keeps that up and eight years will be down the drain just like that. “That explains a lot, actually. Wow. Alright. How long?”

Matthias chokes again, doubling over until he can find his voice again. “E-Excuse me?”

“How long has he um, been in love with me? Three months? Six? It’s only been like a year for me, so…”

“Eight years,” Matthias blurts out after a moment of shock. _He really didn’t know_ , he thinks. _He really, truly, didn’t notice_. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” _Don’t let your voice crack, don’t let your voice crack_.

“ _What_ ,” Asbel gasps. “Oh— Oh, damn—”

“I’ve said too much,” Matthias says, his eyes wide in the horror of what he just did. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have stayed in this room. He has to leave. But then he wouldn’t have known that the Lord of Lhant had been— “Wait, what did you just say?”

“…Oh, damn?” Asbel repeats hesitantly.

“Before that! What’s been like a year for you?” He’s just a butler, he shouldn’t be asking this. What was he thinking? Who gave him this job anyways? Oh shit. Shit. Shit.

“O-Oh , that? Ahaha, uh, yeah, you’re right, you have said too much,” Asbel tells him suddenly, before walking over and opening the door for the butler in question. His face is flushed and he nearly shoves Matthias to the floor from the push he gives him. “Sorry, thanks for your time. Hope to see you around!”

And he smiles. Matthias gulps.

He bolts out of the room in record time, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing behind him.

 

* * *

 

Patty is with Maid Hilda the next day, carrying the groceries from their latest outing to the kitchen, when Lord Asbel approaches the older maid. She sees him walk up, has a horrible flashback, and nearly snaps her neck trying to look away.

(Which is a shame. Lord Asbel is really handsome. Still no flowing golden hair or ruby red lips but he does have the slender figure and pretty eyes. Wow.)

“Hilda, do you know where Richard is?” He asks, probably waving to Patty. She doesn’t notice. Her head is tilted 90 degrees away from the lord.

“You mean you can’t find him?” Maid Hilda sounds genuinely surprised. Which is strange, because Maid Hilda usually knows everything.

“I haven’t seen him all day. It’s really strange. He’s the one who invited me, after all.” Neither maid wants to say anything to that. “This wouldn’t have anything with him being in love with me, would it?”

Maid Hilda starts coughing violently. Luckily, she manages to save the chicken and vegetables bundled up in her arms. Maid Patty is not as lucky.

“Oh, sorry!” Asbel bends over to help Patty with the fruit she dropped, helping her gather it all safely into her bag again. “Are you alright?” Patty nods, staring down at the oranges in her hands instead of his face. “I heard you all knew.”

“We do,” Patty chokes out, and she feels Hilda kick her ankle. Dammit, _nobody_ believed Matthias yesterday! “Sorry,” she continues under Hilda’s glare.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Asbel tells her, helping her up. At this point, Patty can see his face a little better. He looks unsure. A lot less regal than her king, more youthful and bright-eyed. Though there’s the experience of a knight weaved in his eyes. “It’s just that he’s been acting really weird lately. I was hoping he wasn’t sick or anything. That would be awkward.”

Patty almost blurts out _Yeah, lovesick_ , but Maid Hilda kicks her in the shin. “You should check the library,” she tells the lord, regaining her calm composure. “I saw him there earlier.”

“Really? Thanks!” Asbel shoots them a blinding smile, and _God_ , Patty thinks, _why are all of these Windorian nobles so good-looking_? And unavailable, that is. Not that she would have a chance. “Are you sure he’s alright? He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was actually pretty relieved when I got his letter.”

“Oh, sure,” Maid Hilda responds, trying to put on her best poker face while Patty is a cringing mess beside her. “Just, you know, don’t pull anything on him. He’s very delicate right now.”

After a moment, the meaning of her words sinks in and Asbel sputters and darts off. Patty lets out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding and nearly collapses to the floor again. Maid Hilda just looks at her.

“This week?” Patty asks.

“If miracles were real,” Maid Hilda responds.

 

* * *

 

“I heard,” the temporary barkeep of Barona, Malik, begins, “that you guys would be needing some wine this week.”

Matthias just stares at him, unsure of what expression to pull.

“The red kind,” he continues, holding up the green glass bottle with a knowing smirk. “To accompany certain events.”

“…”

“Would be such a shame after eight years,” Malik chuckles, waving the bottle around. “In _another_ eight years they could be married with kids, y’know. Lucky they aren’t now.”

Matthias bites his tongue, gripping his wallet hard to keep himself from punching the barkeep (or the guy who _thinks_ he’s the barkeep) in the face. Which would be totally and utterly stupid since the guy probably doubles his weight in muscle.

“Listen—”

“And you know, people think _so_ much better when intoxicated.”

Matthias slams the money on the table and snatches up the bottle without a second thought, tuning out not-barkeep Malik’s howling laughter behind him.

 

* * *

 

The next day, they’re in the garden.

It’s all perfect. Perfect setting, perfect weather, perfect timing, even the king looks as if he might have found some sort of resolve overnight.

Nobody can get in their way. It would kill the mood. So, of course, they all watch from the first-story window.

“What’s he saying?” Maid Patty asks Maid Mary-Roberts, master lip-reader.

“Everything that comes out of his mouth looks like a proposal. I’ve been working here too long,” she replies, her jaw clenched white and her face pressed up against the glass.

They’re in the middle of the garden, dressed as casually as she’s ever seen the two nobles. Asbel looks as if he’s constantly waiting for Richard to say something very important and nodding to everything he says. He’s staring at him like he’s the only thing in the garden, not even noticing the staff bunched up at the window. He’s got that smile on his face that he only uses around their king, but it’s a little strained.

And everybody is holding their breath, because their king looks as if he’s going to say something, Asbel’s anticipation justified. His face is crossed with adoration and anxiousness, looking back and forth from Asbel’s face, ungloved hands unsure whether to stay on his lap or be a hair’s length from Asbel’s.

And then he leans over, and Craig from kitchen staff almost screams before Maid Hilda slaps a hand over his mouth. Despite nobody breathing for the past several seconds, they all suck in a breath.

Asbel closes his eyes and leans in as well. Maid Hilda starts planning the celebrations. Butler Matthias will set up streamers. Craig from kitchen staff will bake the cake. _THANK GOD YOU FINALLY DID IT!_ will be iced in yellow and red. Fireworks. They need fireworks.

And it all crumbles when King Richard spasms and slams his head into Asbel’s forehead, knocking the lord backward and clutching his injured head.

“He’s saying, “Oh, god, sorry.””

“Shut _up_ Mary-Roberts!” Patty groans.

They all turn to Butler Matthias, who pulls a grim face and holds up a green glass bottle.

 

* * *

 

Their plan is backfiring. Primarily because they underestimated the level of the Lord of Lhant’s distress compared to their long-time-pining king. King Richard is halfway through his first glass. Lord Asbel is on his fourth.

Butler Matthias runs back into the kitchen, holding up the fifth bottle of wine he’d bought that day. The staff may have needed a few drinks too.

They’re on the balcony, instead of the large castle dining room, because it’s just the two of them. Especially because it’s just the _two_ of them. There’s no way King Richard allows his best friend to sit at such a far proximity whenever he visits. They balcony is set up for this exact purpose.

It’s like he’s not even trying to be subtle.

Lord Asbel’s alcohol tolerance must be through the roof because he’s barely wavering, only slightly intoxicated. He doesn’t seem to be appreciating this, because he keeps calling over Matthias to refill his drink.

It’s astounding, because they’re there, sitting across from each other in the evening moonlight,  after the staff had progressively made the place more suitable for their current situation. Ten minutes in, Patty added the candle. Thirty in, Matthias added the roses. Forty, Hilda dimmed the lights. An hour, Mary-Roberts started with her violin solo. It’s been like that for the past half hour.

“You know,” Maid Patty slurs from the floor, glass limp in her hand. “I always heard it was the Lord of Lhant that was the oblivious one.”

“He is,” Craig from kitchen staff replies, slumped over the island. “Why do you think this took eight years?”

“You’ve gotta be straightforward with the Lord of Lhant,” Hilda slurs.

“Guys, shut up!” Mattias yells urgently, looking from the kitchen doorway and to the balcony.

At that moment, the drunken staff scrambles over to the doorway, tripping over their own feet, dropping glasses, stumbling over pots and pans before they make their way to watch the sight. Mary-Roberts nods vigorously from her place just outside the balcony, inconspicuously playing more softly and gently than before.

“He’s holding his hand,” Craig from kitchen staff whispers in astonishment. It’s not even the hand-shaking hand-holding. Their king had the former knight’s hand in a soft grip from across the table, a determined look crossing his face.

“Shut up, I can’t hear!” Patty whispers back.

“Asbel, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” The King’s face is pinched tight with confidence, his mouth a fine line and his eyes bright. Asbel’s breath seems to disappear, and he clears his throat before he loses composure completely.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with why you’re holding my hand, would it?” Okay, so maybe the lord is a little intoxicated right now, or he’s just really good at killing the mood so early. Though, his face is actually an attractive shade of red that suggests that his statement was more awkward than a-matter-of-factly.

“Well, partially,” the king replies, clutching Asbel’s hand tighter. He sighs. “I need you to know that you’re really important to me, Asbel. Probably the most important person to me right now… you have been for a while.”

Lord Lhant is blushing furiously now, and the staff suddenly feels as if they’re intruding on something really private. The way they’re staring at each other seems more intimate than walking in on them. By the door, Mary-Roberts just closes her eyes and plays slower. The music drifts in a perfect melody, drowning the two in a heart-warming tune that makes the entire scene seem to soften with bliss.

“Oh, um, thanks…” Asbel replies, his flustered state more apparent, though he squeezes Richard’s hand back and manages a smile.

“And… I wanted you to know that I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” The king smiles back, softly and reassuringly, running a thumb along Asbel’s hand. “You’ve stuck by my side for so long… even after I left and the time I was possessed. You’ve done so much for me, and sometimes I feel as if I haven’t done enough for you.” He gives Asbel a thoughtful look. “It never does, really.”

“Richard…” Asbel shakes his head and puts his other hand over Richard’s, and leans forward. There’s a gentleness to him, melting away all of his frustrations in replacement for the care he held for his friend, or even something more. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s my duty as your knight and your friend to do protect you. Keeping you safe is something I want to do, Richard.”

For a moment, there is only wonder in Richard’s gaze. The stars shine brightly around them, the candlelight illuminating their faces dimly. Richard’s smile widens, as if he can’t believe the gift given before him. “Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I never met you, Asbel.”

“Same with you, Richard.”

And they laugh, something light and euphoric, like they’re both in their own personal heaven. From the way their king is caressing the lord’s hand, Patty is 150% sure he is going to propose right then and there, skipping the whole confession part completely and getting to—

And then he lets go.

Asbel stares at him as Richard puts his hand back in his lap, looking a little confused at first, before suddenly realizing what just happened.

“Is that all?” he asks the king, looking bewildered.

“Um, yes,” Richard says, shaking his head. “That was a little embarrassing to get off, though.”

Mary-Roberts strings one note off-key. Hilda collapses on Patty with a groan as the two of the both fall to the floor. Craig picks up his wine glass and stomps around the kitchen before he reaches the window and promptly chucks it out in irritation muttering “fucking shit” under his breath.

And Asbel has no idea what to say. He’s still a little red after their little discussion, rubbing his hand like it were touched by magic, but with the expression of someone who was just brutally betrayed. Matthias walks out and sets the entire bottle of wine on their table. Asbel grabs for it immediately.

“Cheers,” Asbel says, putting on another smile and raising his glass. It looks even more strained than the first.

Richard raises his as well and returns to smile before they toast. Asbel downs his umpteenth glass.

From the opposite end of the table, Richard sighs, muttering a “once again” under his breath before downing his own drink.

 

* * *

 

After all of the wine he went through with no results, Maid Hilda never thought she would see Lord Lhant drunk that night.

That turned out not to be the case.

“Hey, Richard, am I unapproachable?”

As she’s clearing out candles after a disappointing night, Hilda catches her king and the lord in the guest chambers hallway. She catches herself before she takes another step, blowing out her own candle before she catches the attention of either noble.

“Hm?” Richard turns to his best friend, who is looking a little woozy on his feet. “No, I don’t think so at all. I would trust you with anything. I did so tonight.”

“Then you know you can tell me anything, right?” Asbel says, his face turning into that of a kicked puppy. Richard flinches at the sight. “I mean, I won’t judge you or anything. I mean, who can judge _you_ , you’re… you’re _Richard_.” His voice begins to slur at the end, and he shakes his head in an attempt to clear it off.

“Asbel, you’re drunk,” Richard tells him.

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” Asbel replies, though his thankfulness fails to show on his face.

“You’re not happy about that,” Richard sighs, reaching out to keep his best friend from toppling over.

“No, no, now I won’t be screwing up when I can finally tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Richard freezes. Maid Hilda nearly drops her candle.

“E-Excuse me?” Richard chokes out.

“You know,” Asbel continues in his drunken daze, pointing at Richard, “Cheria told me I was slow. It’s only _probably_ right now that I _think_ I might agree with her. I might have only realized this like last _year_ , but I think I might have been crushing on you since I first saw you again in the caverns two years ago.”

He reaches out and grasps the shoulder of Richard’s shirt to balance himself, but also to allow himself to look into Richard’s eyes properly.

“Do you know what kind of person you are, Richard?” Asbel asks to his dumbfounded friend. “You’re fuckin’ amazing,” he slurs. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m best friend with such an amazing person. You do so much for this country, and you’re so strong after all of that… that _mess_ from last year, and you’re still here with me. You’re also so freakin’ patient and kind and everything else that this country could want in a king, so much that they took you back so easily. Hell, I would have been surprised if they _didn’t_ , even after all _that_. How could I not fall in love with that?”

Asbel grabbed Richard’s other shoulder, pulling the older to face him. A determined expression was drawn over his face despite his dizziness, his mouth a firm line. “And I’m not sure if Hubert was screwing with me or not, but either you’re not in love with me, or you keep not wanting to tell me you are. And I don’t know why. Do you really think I would want to hurt you?”

And she hears the hurt in his voice, his eyes slightly downcast despite the confidence she sees in the dark of the hallway.

“Asbel,” Richard says, taking the lord’s hands off his shoulders, but still holding them in a firm grasp. “No, I…”

For once in her career, Hilda finds her king speechless, and with the only man she knows could make him that way. His mouth moves unsurely, trying and failing to form the correct words to comfort the man before him. He’s trying, but his expression only falls with every passing second.

After a point in the silence, Hilda doesn’t think she’ll be able to take it. She averts her gaze to the burnt-out candle in her hand. For years, she’s heard of her king, who was in love with the Lord of Lhant. His best and truest friend, and how he made him smile in his darkest of times.

She always wondered what their relationship was like, and thought if it as something clear and perfect, yet with the subtleness of their feelings. But it wasn’t like that, it was awkward and clumsy, yet genuine, with its trials and tribulations that only made their relationship stronger. They were surrounded by others, by friends and experiences and emotions that created something that she never thought she could see all her life, even if it were between two men.

She had heard it from Mary-Roberts, from Mrs. Brenda the general store owner, from Matthias and Craig and that stupid fake bartender Malik. She had heard it from Julia Northway from down the street, and the Edward the mailman whenever something big happened. She heard it from Cheria Barnes whenever she visited with her best friend, watching the two dance around each other, and she heard it from Lieutenant Oswell, always complaining about one thing or the other.

Sometimes, it sounds like a fairy tale to her, one she imagined up a thousand different endings for, in place that one that didn’t exist yet.

 _Until now_ , she thinks.

There’s a rustle from the halls, and Hilda brings her eyes back up to the scene.

Richard had moved, his hand no longer in Asbel’s, but instead wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in until the spaces between their lips disappeared. It’s a chaste kiss, no brilliant fireworks or caroling angels, but something more meaningful than Hilda ever imagined.

Asbel reaches up and grasps Richard’s sleeves, pressing back into the kiss, his tongue moving against Richard’s lips, making the king shudder. Hilda blushes at the sudden intimacy and darts away from the hall, pressing her back up against the wall next to it, clutching her candle holder hard between her fingers.

“Mmh, not now,” she hears her king say, making her feel even more flustered.

“Why?”

“You’re drunk, and I am not taking advantage of you.”

“’M not drunk.”

“You just admitted you were drunk a few minutes ago,” the king laughs, followed by a shuffling that Hilda assumed was him pushing the young lord away.

“Damn,” the lord replies with a sigh. “I should…”

“No,” and Hilda can hear the smirk in her king’s voice as she hears him pull the former knight over again. “We’re going back to my room, and we are going to cuddle.”

“My room is _right here_ ,” Asbel complains.

“My bed is bigger,” Richard responds, never losing the laughter in his voice. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to wake up next to you.”

There’s a pause, and Hilda smiles softly to herself. His happiness in contagious, in a way. It’s like she’s been loving the lord with him, waiting right next to him for him to reach that one moment in their relationship where they could finally be happy together. Her smile only widens when she hears the drunken lord scoff and chuckle, “You’re such a dork.”

“Even more when I’m with you,” her king tells him honestly.

“I love you,” Asbel says, and laughs as she hears him shuffle up and lean up against her king. “I love you,” he says again, as if it’s all he can think about right then.

And Hilda doesn’t think she imagines it, even as their voices fade down the length of the hallway, growing softer with comfort, when she hears her king reply, “I’ve always loved you.”

Because she knows he means it.

 

* * *

 

Patty nearly drops her plates the next morning when she sees the Lord of Lhant run up to her king and swoop in to kiss him straight on the lips.

Lieutenant Oswell, who she had been escorting in at the same time with Miss. Pascal, did not have the same amount of self-control.

“It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it?” Maid Hilda asks her, a smile gracing her usually-stoic face.

“No,” Lieutenant Oswell interrupts, waving the maid down as Pascal tried to calm him down. “This was a nightmare. All of it. This whole dance of he-likes-me he-likes-me-not. It’s all finally over now,” he cries.

“Like a true prince and his darling knight!” Pascal replies, ignoring Hubert’s words and rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Patty just smiles, looking over at her king and his knight, who are both staring at each other like they’re to only things in the room that matter. It wasn’t really what she was expecting when she moved into Windor, nothing like she had imagined or dreamed about ever since she had heard of their amazing king. Still no signed photographs or kingly autographs to send to her father; just a refined, caring king with a knight who never left his side.

And it’s so much better.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/metis_ink)


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